A heart revealed

In his office, Mr. Thompson heard his phone beep. It was a message notification. Curiosity piqued, he checked it. What he saw made his heart sink. He was stunned by what he saw. A video of his son, Alex, popped up. There was Alex, gulping down drinks, puffing on a cigarette, and a girl perched on his lap. Mr. Thompson wasn't just any business executive. He was well-known in New York City, with several companies to his name. He was also a kind man, treating everyone—his employees, his family—with kindness. But then there was Alex. His only son. Ever since finishing his business degree, Alex has turned into a reckless party boy. All he did was spend his father's money, flaunt his wild lifestyle on social media, and drag Mr. Thompson's name through the mud. Furious, Mr. Thompson dialed his account manager. "Close Alex's account". "Make sure he can't touch any of that money." He added, "Find that video." "We can't let it damage my business". Just then, his phone rang again. Caller ID? Alex. Mr. Thompson didn't answer. He already knew why his son was calling. The phone kept ringing, but he ignored it, focusing on work instead. Vivian, his secretary, walked in with some files. "We've got new clients," she said, giving him the updates he needed. Mr. Thompson buried himself in tasks trying to block out the chaos waiting for him at home, until it was finally time to head home. His driver, Mr. Smith, came in. "Time to go, sir." Mr. Thompson glanced at the clock. Time had flown. He handed over his briefcase and prepared to leave. As he made his way out, the employees waved goodbye. He responded with a nod and a smile, but inside, his thoughts were racing. What was he going to do about Alex? Alex's pov I sat in my room, lost in thought about the event. Five years had passed since that event, yet the memory still lingered, and it still haunted me. I rummaged through my shelves, searching for the sharp objects I once used to inflict pain on myself. There was a twisted pleasure in it, a way to cope with the blame I placed on myself. Then my phone rang. It was Xavier. "Yo, where are you at?" "Get your ass over here and let's hang out!" His American accent cut through my thoughts. I shot back, "See you soon, fool." I dropped everything and headed out. Things have changed since that time. I turned to drinking and casual encounters for my thrill. That was where I found my joy. I stepped out of my room and into the garage. I grabbed my latest car and sped off to Xavier's place. When I arrived, I found our friends Isaac, Elijah, and Jordan there, each with a girl on their lap. I greeted them with our usual bro-style banter. One of the girls stood up and approached me, swaying her hips. "Hey, handsome". "How are you doing?" She said, playfully touching my arm. I couldn't resist it. I gave her a playful s***k. She laughed, clearly enjoying it. "Let's hit Le Clair de Lune," Xavier suggested. Everyone jumped on board. We piled into our cars, the girls joining us. The music blasted as we sped down the road. I felt invincible. After all, I was Mr. Thompson's only child. Nothing could hold me back. We pulled up and jumped out of our cars. The sign reading "Le Clair de Lune" in bold letters glowed brightly. Xavier, brimming with excitement, shouted, "What are we waiting for?" "Let's paint the town red!" Our cheers filled the air as we charged inside. The club was alive. People swayed to the music, laughter echoed, and we made our way to the VIP section where most ladies were waiting. A lady settled on my lap, and we got lost in our moment. Just then, I spotted this stunning waitress heading our way. She wasn't just any waitress. She had a rounded face and lips that looked perfect for kissing. Her curves could distract any man. Instantly, I imagined her in my bed, lost in pleasure. Her voice snapped me back. "May I take your orders?" she asked, her tone flat, barely hiding her disinterest. Our eyes met, but hers held a challenge. I felt anger bubbling inside me. No one looked at me like that. Xavier jumped in, ordering steak and the priciest booze. The girls squealed with joy. As the waitress walked away, my friends gawked at her. The girl in my lap noticed my distraction and kissed me, pulling my focus back to her. We resumed our making out, both enjoying the heat of the moment. Moments later, the waitress returned with our drinks. She shot me another defiant glance, still filled with that same spark. The evening pulsed with energy. Music thumped like a heartbeat, drinks were flowing, and laughter filled the air. Some guys were lost in the rhythm, girls were giggling as they perched on their laps, while I was deep in a moment with my own date. Jordan was in his element, shouting, "This is amazing! Bring on the booze!" Moments later, the same waitress approached our table, her flat tone cutting through the excitement. Jordan, ever the charmer, shot back, "Yes, beautiful, we need more drinks." She didn't seem impressed and walked away. Minutes later, she returned with the drinks; hours had passed. Then, she delivered the news: her shift was done, and we needed to settle the bill. My friends cheered for me, pride swelling in their voices. I pulled out my black card, ready to show off. But when she ran it through the machine, an error popped up. Frustrated, I snapped, "Try it again!" How can it be an error? "Do you even know who I am?" I watched her try again, but the machine rejected it once more. Suddenly, she accused me of using a fake card, raising her voice and drawing attention to our table. I was furious. I grabbed my drink and splashed it on her. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" I yelled. "I'm Mr Thompson's only son!" My friends tried to calm me down, pulling me away as Xavier stepped up to pay the bill. Once outside, I whipped out my phone, ready to call my dad. I knew he was behind all this. Without waiting for my friends, I jumped into my car and sped home, anger boiling inside me.